Over My Head
by Touch of Gray
Summary: Everything can ultimately be blamed on Gippal, if you think about it. [Rikku, no longer one shot. RG.]
1. Chapter 1

.  
.  
.  
(i'm in)  
**over my head**  
.  
.  
.

This must be what hell feels like.

Why did we have to camp out in the _desert_? I mean, couldn't we have taken over, I dunno, Besaid or something? I think Besaid would have made a great hiding place for us way back whenever we moved to Bikanel. If anyone attacked, we could have played guerilla warfare and trounced their little Yevonite butts all the way back to Bevelle, and it would have been great. Then again, we also got attacked by the Guado a lot, and they're real jerks who don't give up that easy. But I still think Besaid would have been better.

And much, much more comfortable. But no. We chose to condemn ourselves to an eternity of sandy bras and sunburnt armpits. Ever _had_ a sunburnt armpit? It's pretty much the worst thing ever.

Not to mention sandstorms and crazy desert iguanas who like to terrify people at the Oasis. Pretty much the only good thing about the desert is the lack of thunder. Well, that, and the fact that any guy who sets foot on the island is practically obligated to go shirtless. Which is cool when he's not, you know, related. Or seventy years old. Or _seven _years old.

Okay, so it's really only cool when he's sexy and my age. But it's really nice when he is.

But of course, someone who falls (unfortunately) into that category is the reason I'm here. And while the image of Gippal shirtless is a nice one, I still want to kill him for sending me here. Apparently, working in D'jose would be a bad idea because of all the lightning, and little Rikku can't handle lighting (which I can, but he's just an ass who thinks I'm still four).

I am going to hurt him _so much_ the next time I see him.

Actually, he didn't say any of that about the lightning. It was actually something more along the lines of, _you know this part of the desert like the back of your hand, so you're probably not going to get stranded and die hopelessly lost and alone there_, but it was implied. It was also implied that I would die hopelessly lost and alone in D'jose, which should tell anyone listening exactly how chivalrous Gippal is. I'm not even sure it's possible to get hopelessly lost in D'jose. I mean, it's a temple with some big rocks hanging around. The worst I could do is trip and end up at the bottom of the ravine, and even then, I can scream pretty loud.

I'm sure someone would come to my rescue. And then I'd run off into the sunset, settle into Besaid with my handsome, save-the-damsel-in-distress husband and never have to deal with obnoxious one-eyed Al Bhed men again. I could even play with Yuna's new baby. She's adorable. I've already decided that she and Vidina are going to get married one day in the distant future. I mean, it's perfect. Vidina's almost two years older than her, so it's not like some creepy age difference, they're going to grow up together and be the best of friends when they're little, which will turn into something more.

It's like the perfect romance novel.

And Vidina won't be a big jerk like _some_ people and turn into a complete man-whore who little Lena is afraid to touch for fear of STDs. Vidina will be a nice guy. Probably a blitzball player like his daddy.

Oooh! They could be the stars of the Aurochs and become world-famous, and be the couple everyone talks about! That would be so cool! And then they'd have lots of little blitzball-playing babies, and -

Why am I thinking about my cousin's newborn daughter's love life? This is weird.

Of course, they'd have Old Maid Aunt Rikku hanging around, teaching them all sorts of useful secrets, like the best excuses for when you're caught making out with your boyfriend or how to avoid all manner of work most efficiently. Of course, this is going to happen as soon as I dig myself out of the mass of sand and my father's not-so-subtle hints that I ought to be following in Yuna's footsteps by now (19, Pops. Do you _want_ your daughter pregnant at 19?)

And it's all Gippal's fault that I'm here. Because if he wasn't such a jerk, I would probably be on a date with Hot Myrick by now. Mmm. Myrick. Think about the sexiest man imaginable, and multiply by ten. And then you've got Myrick's _shadow_. And he _so_ had a crush on me, too. All the girls were saying he was going to ask me out, and then Gippal decides to throw me to the desert iguanas and roast me alive.

Not to mention, even if Myrick miraculously shows up here, proclaiming undying love and willingness to whisk me off my feet, my dad is here. Pops would probably answer the door and spend three hours explaining to Myrick just how he should treat me, and then kick him out for looking at me. I think Gippal is a closet sadist.

I hope he gets herpes.

...Actually, no, I don't. Because herpes is kinda gross and contagious (in an... STD kind of way) and thinking about Gippal with herpes leads to thinking about _where_ it would be and...

Let's just jump that train of thought, shall we?

Okay, truth is, I had a huge crush on him when I was a kid. In fact, I had a huge crush on him when I was a teenager (which I still am, so draw whatever conclusions you want). And the night he left for the Crimson Squad I might have gotten incredibly drunk and kissed him. Which is what he was teasing me about when he said that we made "quite the couple," because everyone and their slightly crazy Aunt Mildred were there and saw it happen. And the worst part? I don't remember a thing about it.

I got horribly embarrassed by kissing the guy I was practically in love with and don't even remember it. That might be a good thing (he might have thrown me off of him in disgust, in which case I don't want to remember), but still.

And Yuna's convinced that I'm going to marry him someday, which is not only kind of weird but completely impossible. The day Gippal gets married will be the first day of the apocalypse. I'm serious. He'll say the words "I do" and whoever created Spira will walk out of the sky, raining fire and proclaiming the end of the universe. He just isn't gonna get married, not to me or anyone else.

Oh well. Yuna's convinced of a lot of things. She's also got this weird belief that Paine is going to marry Baralai, which might be more possible than me and Gippal, but can you imagine? You've got the prudish Yevonite and... _Paine_. Insert dirty bondage joke here. That wedding would be the craziest thing ever.

And I'm not elaborating on the bondage joke. I think you can come up with something on your own, and I would have to kill myself if I even considered going there.

..._Eeeeeew_.

Anyway, I'm in the desert. Digging, which ranks on the "fun meter" just below plucking out pubic hair. Which, in case you were wondering, I have never done. I am not a masochist. That sounds unimaginably painful.

This is an awkward subject. Moving on... I'm digging up machina (machines, whatever) under a hot desert sun, sweating like a pig. You know how all those horny guys talk about sweaty girls being sexy? Just an FYI to all you horny guys - there is nothing sexy about sweat. I reek and I look like hell. You would have to enjoy sleeping with dirty shoopufs to enjoy sleeping with sweaty girls. At least, sweaty-from-digging-in-the-desert girls. Because I've got sand in places that should not, under any circumstances, have sand.

I'm not even sure how it gets there. It's not like I'm wearing a thong. Apparently, desert sand has magical make-you-really-really-uncomfortable properties. Yet another reason that we should have stationed in Besaid. Because even though you can get sandy lady parts on the beach, you can very easily wash said sandy lady parts out without looking like you're on drugs or doing naughty things.

Here, you're stuck with it until you can navigate through the dunes to the Oasis under cover of darkness. Or, until we finally get running water, which Pops has been promising for about ever and hasn't yet done. That man's gonna have a mutiny on his hands if he doesn't get us that water, and I'll be in the lead. I mean, we're pretty forgiving, but sand in awkward places is not to be overlooked easily.

But even this can be blamed on Gippal. I mean, if he wanted to, I'm sure he could get us some running water. Everything can ultimately be blamed on Gippal, if you think about it. I couldn't sleep last night, it's his fault. Whether this is because I was "pining" for him (as Yuna claims every time I mention that I had a dream involving him, even though it usually involves me hurting him or something completely insane like we're watching bright red chocobos dance across Luca) or because he put me here, the blame can be traced back to him.

That's what he gets for being such a jerk.  
---  
--  
-  
(A/N: As usual, endings are for losers. It's actually incredibly easy for me to write Rikku, considering I pretty much act exactly like her. So she's a lot of fun. And this doesn't count, does it, Vixen? Come on, he made a cameo!)

(Review!)


	2. Chapter 2

.  
.  
.  
(i'm in)  
**over my head  
**.  
.  
.

There's one really, really annoying thing about being an adult female and having a stomach virus: _Everyone assumes you're pregnant._

I'm hovering over the toilet, hurling my guts up like there's no tomorrow, and all I can hear (besides my own heaven-forsaken retching) is my father's annoying voice, right outside the bathroom door, swearing death and dismemberment to whoever is the father of the (non-existent) baby. And my brother is apparently on the CommSphere, saying the exact same thing.

I am going to kill both of them in the most excruciatingly painful ways imaginable. Never mind that I've been sick non-stop for the past three days. Never mind that half the freakin' camp is puking. Never mind that Pops keeps taping my door frame (so he'll be able to know if I've been sneaking out, which I would only bother with if there was someone worth seeing here, which there isn't). No. They're planning for grandkids. And I can't muster the strength to throw something at them, unless I want to projectile-vomit in their directions, which even I wouldn't stoop to.

However, if they don't shut up, I will. And that won't be a pretty sight.

I haven't slept since I came down with this thing. I haven't been able to keep anything except rice down. I haven't budged from the floor of the sweltering bathroom in days. I am _this close_ to committing patricide. And to top it all off, rumor has it that Gippal is supposed to be coming down here for inspection. Tomorrow, I think.

And, as if things couldn't possibly get worse, Pops has this nagging suspicion that Gippal is the father of his grandchild, which means things are going to turn rather awkward incredibly fast, and I can't do anything about it because I can't form two coherent sentences without either hurting someone, hurting myself, or wanting to puke. This is going from bad to worse, and I'm stuck watching.

Someone is going to die within the next two days. And I have this horrible feeling that it's going to be me.

I don't even know why Pops thinks _Gippal_ has anything to do with this fake pregnancy thing. I haven't seen him in three months. Apparently, we can sleep together from _extreme distances_. That, or I have a very slow-acting uterus. I don't know, maybe he snuck away from D'jose and came all the way to Bikanel just to get into my pants. And nobody noticed. Yeah, that's it. And the possibility that I might be suffering from a virus, _like everyone else on the damn island_, is somehow less possible than that?

Have you ever been sick of being sick? You know, when you're tired of feeling like you can't move, when you're sick of throwing up, when all that chicken soup and friendly people taking care of you just starts grating on your nerves? Yeah, that kicked in two days ago.

I think I'm crying. Which is a little weird, but not really. My throat _really _hurts.

Why does everything happen at once? I mean, why can't the universe say, Oh, look, she's sick, let's leave her alone for now? I'm throwing up like wild, my family thinks I'm a whore, my friends think I'm a whore, my cousin is giddily preparing for me to have a child, my childhood crush is coming here tomorrow and will find me praying to the porcelain god while my father builds a crib next door and will assume that I'm a whore, I can't earn money because I'm about to freakin' die, so I can't get the hell out of this place, and to top it all off, Brother has decided to head on down to join the fracas. Oh, and I'm PMS-ing, which they all take as Her-Hormones-Are-Crazy-Because-Of-The-Baby, and not Go-Die like I really want them to.

Luckily, they haven't yet managed to unlock the door, so I'm safe for now. All I have to do is put a pillow over my head and I can almost pretend that all is well and my worst problem is sandy shorts. But this too will pass, because I know that when Brother gets here, he will knock down the door. And I will commit murder.

And then everything will just get worse, because then I'll be on the run from the law, and no one will help me because I'm a horrible person who murders family members, and I'll be forced to move to the Calm lands and live off Chocobo meat. And then I'll feel terrible because I grew up with Charlie Chocobo and he was so cute, and I'll have eaten poor Charlie's family members, and -

Yea Gods, I'm going insane. This is what happens when you mix sleep-deprivation, Gippal, a stomach virus, PMS, extreme hunger, and Brother all into a big pot labeled _Rikku_. See kids? This is why you join a convent at puberty.

If not, you will be condemned to a lifetime of phony baby showers every time you get the flu. I hate my family. So very much. I'm really hoping that I can infect Brother or Pops or Gippal, so they'll know that it's just a virus. That, or Brother isn't telling us something. Which could be -

I'm not finishing that thought. Not that they'd believe me if they got sick. No, because it's entirely impossible that I don't sleep with every man who crosses my path. They'd just think it was a crazy coincidence that we're all sick at the same time, and it's not the same thing. That doesn't even make sense. How can they rationalize this? I'll admit, when I was with the Gullwings, the skirt was a bit much, but _honestly! _I've seen temple accolades wearing less.

...Actually, no, I haven't. But I'm sure there are some rather whorish nuns. Yeah, that's the ticket. Celibate nuns are whores. Good one, Rikku.

And there's Brother, right on cue, banging on the door. Who's the father, indeed. The father would happen to be some painfully drug-resistant strain of virus previously unknown to my frail little Al Bhed body. I can't take _anything_, and Pops refuses to let me just use a freakin' Elixir because he thinks it'll hurt the baby.

I am going to tear his annoying little heart out. And laugh.

I think I'm going to take a shower. As soon as I regain the strength to move. Let's see, if I work this just right, I should be able to topple myself into the bathtub. I can support myself on the lid of the toilet and brace my foot against the bottom of the sink, which should allow me to stand without too much pain. And then I can grasp the shower curtain and pull myself into a sitting position on the side of the tub, from which it will be easy to swing my legs over and turn the shower on. Sounds good. Let's give it a try.

Okay, lid of the toilet comes first, and then foot against the sink. Okay. Standing. Whoever said I couldn't plan? I think it was Auron. That sounds like him. Anyway, he was wrong. Take that, dead man! Ha. Now for the hard part. Grasp the shower curtain and move to the side of the -

Oh, _fuck._

My shower curtain hates me, and before I can even think about moving, it gives away in my hand. I topple to the side, crashing mercilessly into the wall, banging my wrist against the soap-holder. The pole comes down on my lap and I'm completely tangled in the curtain. I can hear frantic voices outside the door, trying to come in.

The door bursts open, and there's Gippal - apparently here early, which makes things even better - who's worried expression quickly turns to bemusement as he takes in the scene. And then the shower turns on. And I do the only thing I can possibly do in this situation.

I burst out laughing.  
---  
--  
-  
(A/N: I actually had no intention of continuing this, but it kind of happened. It jumps around a bit, I know. Sorry. Oh, and Charlie Chocobo belongs to someone over at the Balthier/Ashe community on LJ, but I don't remember who. Even if you don't support the pairing, you should check out that place. It's pretty insane. Review if you like.)


	3. Chapter 3

.  
.  
.  
(i'm in)  
**over my head**  
.  
.  
.

Well, this is good. Yup, this... This is _exactly_ where I want to be. Sick, almost-naked, wrapped in a shower curtain, dripping wet, in pain, and did I mention sick? As in, Rikku-is-about-to-puke-all-over-herself-and-in-front-of-Gippal-while-lying-in-pain-in-the-shower. At least I am wearing a nightshirt.

A _white _nightshirt. And no bra.

But on the plus side, the shower curtain tangled all around me is doing a really great job of hiding everything except my (bright red and still giggling) face. But none of this changes the fact that I'm clothed in one of Brother's old t-shirts which is now clinging rather uncomfortably to my thighs, and Gippal is staring at me like I've gone completely and utterly insane. And who knows? Maybe I have.

Oh, and Pops will surely be here any second, worried that I've hurt the baby. This can_not _get any worse.

...Oh. Oh, no. I've done it now. What next? Is the ceiling going to collapse on me? Or, no, better yet - a tornado is going to sweep in out of nowhere and rip the entire complex off the ground and send it flying halfway across the desert. I'm hysterical. This is getting worse.

"Are you okay?"

Hmm. We've been over this, haven't we? I am most definitely _not _okay. But there is no way in this entire flipping universe that I will admit that to Gippal. Because he'll either tease me and never, ever let me live this down (which would suck), or he'll actually care and try to help (which, considering my position, would be even worse).

"Yeah, sorta," I manage to squeak, trying to get back up and failing miserably. Now I have a dilemma. I can fight it out with the wet porcelain and probably break several bones trying to get back to the floor but salvage what little dignity remains to me, or I can swallow my pride and ask for help and save myself from some serious pain... Oh, screw it. I've spent the past three days destroying my dignity. I am not going to lose the tiny little shards I still have.

"Do you need some help?"

"_No._"

He cocks his hip (just like Yunie does sometimes!) and raises an eyebrow. "Right. Can you even get out of there?"

Oh, crap. I think I'm gonna throw up again. When I said that it couldn't get worse, I didn't really mean it! I know it could always be worse! I could die today, okay! I get it! _That wasn't a test!_

If I don't speak, he'll try to help me. If I do speak, I'll throw up. Maybe if I just nod vaguely...

"Rikku, what's going on?" He comes a little closer, and I shake my head violently. Ooooh, bad idea. "Seriously, are you okay?"

He's not laughing anymore.

All right, look. I know I've never believed in any gods or Yevon or whatever, but really. If there is some sort of god out there, how about looking over here and, I dunno, sending Yunie or someone in here who can kick Gippal out and help me? Hell, at this point, I'd settle for Pops. _Anyone_ but Gippal.

Any minute now...

"Rikku?"

"Go away!"

"You look like you're about to be sick..."

"That's because I am! _Now go away!_"

"Princess, you're stuck in a bathtub, tangled in a shower curtain, and you say you're sick. Why won't you let me help you get out?"

"_How much do you honestly think I'm wearing?!_"

He freezes for a second and then rolls his eye. "Oh. Well, I promise I won't take pictures and show everyone, all right?" With that, he grabs what little of my arm is exposed and lifts me out of the bathtub. Unfortunately, sickness has made me weak, so I collapse at his feet. This is pathetic. I am pathetic. Gippal laughs, and I can do nothing but sit here. I don't even have the energy to cry or hit him or anything. "Wow, you really are sick, aren't you?"

I can't tell if he feels bad for laughing or just thinks he ought to pretend he feels bad for laughing. Knowing Gippal, probably the latter. All I can manage is a half-hearted whimper. He kneels down and looks into my face. "You should probably get some sleep. You're pretty pale."

For the love of all that is holy, just leave me alone to wallow in peace. This is not how I wanted him to find me. I had kinda hoped to be outside, surrounded by all manner of fawning guys, looking absolutely gorgeous and lovely with the wind in my hair, and absolutely dazzle him in the desert sun. He'd be all jealous because of the fawning guys and would sweep me off my feet, take me back to D'jose and live happily ever after. You know, that sorta thing. Like in the romance novels. Not... this.

"Rikku?" He sing-songs, waving a hand in front of my face. I look up at him with an expression that I sincerely hope does not look as drugged-out as it feels. "You still there?" I could answer him, but since I collapsed here, the nausea has passed to an only sort of unbearable clawing maw in the pit of my stomach and I really don't want to open my mouth and ruin it.

And then Yuna comes in. Thanks, universe. Little slow on the uptake here, aren't we? I actually meant for Yuna to save me _before _showing all the goods to Gippal.

"Rikku, Uncle Cid said -" She trails off as she takes in the scene. Wow, this must look pretty crazy, especially considering I'm still kind of trailing shower curtain. "Oh, um... Am I interrupting something?" Yes, Yuna. We were just about to have raunchy sex. Because my idea of romance is being caught soaking wet and half-naked and puking by Gippal. We're gonna ride off into the sunset any moment now.

Of course, I turn red. For once, Gippal decides not to exploit the opportunity to embarrass me (maybe he figures he's done enough damage already), and stands back up, kind of rubbing the back of his neck. "It's a long story, really."

He starts to explain what's going on, but I can't focus on any of that. Because this stomach virus is reasserting itself, and even though I'm leaning against the toilet, there is no way I can turn to it. So we have two options here - I can kind of turn a little and puke all over Yuna's shoes, or I can not and puke all over Gippal's legs.

Yuna's shoes are prettier than Gippal's pants.

They both freak out, and Gippal glares at me, looking completely disgusted. Yeah, this is attractive.

"I _said_ I was sick."  
---  
--  
-  
(A/N: I am unnecessarily cruel to Rikku. Other writers put her in life-or-death situations and let her battle it out in epic fights with fiends and bad guys, but I... I make her puke on Gippal. While wearing clingy, see-through t-shirts. Forget the Via Purifico. This is how to kill someone. Stick them in the world of fanfiction. Jeez, could you imagine if people wrote fanfic about us? As in, PrettyGothGirl/JRR Tolkien or something? Eeeew. No offense to either, they're both great writers, but... Tolkien's a little dead.

...Wherever _that _came from. Anyway, review if you like.)


	4. Chapter 4

.  
.  
.  
(i'm in)  
over my head  
.  
.  
.

The good news: I haven't been sick in almost twelve hours (not since I ruined Gippal's pants, incidentally).

The bad news: My father has now become convinced that I'm in my second trimester of pregnancy, due to the fact number one. Oh, and I started my period. So I'm cramping so bad and I just want hot cocoa. Yuna has decided to help me with that. She's also trying to explain to my father the entire female reproductive system as grounds for why I'm not pregnant. Brother seems convinced, but that might be because he really doesn't want an in-depth explanation of why we bleed every month and why that means there are no babies. Unfortunately, Pops heard somewhere that some women still have their periods even when they're pregnant ("Your momma never stopped when she was having you! Had to listen to her whine constantly about how it wasn't fair! You think I'm gonna listen to this? Why can't you just own up to it? I ain't gonna kick you out or anything!")

I figure this will eventually blow over, you know, when he realizes that my stomach is not expanding or he finally gets a brain and sends me to a doctor. Gippal, by the way, thinks the entire situation is hilarious. I can't tell if he doesn't know or doesn't care that he's supposed to be the father of this kid.

I'm really hoping that he just doesn't care, because as if things aren't awkward enough now that he's seen me practically naked and puking on him, think of how much worse it would be if everyone's insinuating that we have sex like rabbits. If he doesn't care and still thinks it's funny, then there may yet be hope for my wounded pride.

...Okay, scratch that. My pride is long dead and gone. It got sacrificed to the heathen gods of Spira who like to ruin the lives of cute little Al Bhed girls. Some priest came by and threw it into a huge vat of spitting fire and lava while everyone I've ever met watched, pointing and laughing. Pity. I rather liked my pride. He was nice, even if he got me into trouble many times.

Why is my pride male?

Anyway, I'm wrapped up in a huge, fluffy, fleecy blanket, sipping a mug of hot cocoa (with marshmallows and little bits of chocolate melted into it, and have I ever mentioned that I love Tidus? He's just about the nicest guy _ever_. Making me really amazing hot cocoa and giving me a nice blanket and not letting me babysit Lena because I've "probably had enough of babies." If Yuna hadn't snatched him up, I swear, I woulda married the guy.) Brother plops down next to me and glances oddly at the blanket.

"You do know we're in the desert, right, Rikku?"

I burrow deeper into my blanket and pretend I didn't hear him. So what? We're in the desert. Big deal. I'm still kinda feverish and sleepy and achey and whatnot. Who cares that it's about nine thousand degrees outside? I'm not outside.

"I'm sorry I thought you were pregnant."

Thank you, Brother, but you're still a jackass.

"Say something."

"Mmf," I reply, and take another sip of my cocoa. Why isn't Tidus my brother, anyway? Tidus believed me the first time I said I wasn't pregnant, and he takes care of me when I'm cramping. Why am I stuck with the crazy paranoid who idolized Melvin Moogle as a kid?

Personally, I was a Luna Lupine girl, until the first time I met a Lupine. Yeah, that little obsession died pretty quick.

"Riiiikuuuuu," He says obnoxiously. "Please forgive me."

"I'll consider it when Pops quits giving me lectures on how to take care of babies."

"I can't stop him. You know that." Here we go. He's starting to get that whiny tone again.

"Hmmph."

Okay, so maybe I'm being a little unreasonable. I mean, after all, Brother has decided - all on his own! - to apologize to me. He's trying to be nice, and I'm just being a mean little witch to him, aren't I? Well, he's been annoying to me for the past three days, I'm in a pissy mood, and... I'm in a pissy mood. All right, fine. They're not very good reasons to hold a grudge, but whoever said I needed a good reason to hold a grudge? The way I see it, this mess needs to be over before I'm even gonna_ think _about being nice and forgiving.

Brother finally gives up and leaves, and I have less than five minutes of glorious peace before Gippal shows up and takes the seat Brother was just in, and slings an arm around my shoulders. What, it is "pick on Rikku day"? And doesn't he have a job to be doing? I ask as much.

"Sandstorm, babe. Can't do anything till it blows over." Babe? Since when am I babe? Maybe if I just ignore him, he'll disappear. "So, apparently, we're having a baby, correct?"

I am going to _kill _my father.

"No. There is no baby, and even if there were, it wouldn't have anything to do with you."

He gives me a weird look for a moment, and then snickers. "I knew that, Princess," I freakin' _hate _it when he calls me that, "Unless you tried to seduce me in my sleep or something. I'm just curious - why does your father think it's mine?"

"_There is no baby!_"

"Touchy subject, I take it." He glances at the mug I'm cradling like it's a lifeline, "And why are you drinking hot cocoa in the middle of summer in the desert? While wrapped in a blanket, no less."

I am so unbelievably tempted to shriek, _Because I'm on my period, you insufferable bastard! Now go leave me alone!_ but I will refrain. For starters, all that shouting would shake up my hot cocoa and I might spill it. Which would be a real tragedy. Even if it spilled on Gippal, because while that would be nice and would solve many of my problems, I would still be out some really amazing hot cocoa.

Man, little Lena has it _good_.

She doesn't have to deal with obnoxious faction leaders, she has a really awesome dad and a really sweet mother, she's going to grow up on Besaid, which is about the best place ever, and did I mention that she doesn't have to deal with people like Gippal? Because that's the best part.

You know what I just noticed? If you rearrange the letters in Gippal, you get "pig pal." Why have I never yet discovered this? I could have teased him _mercilessly_ when I was a snot-nosed, immature child. If I did that now, I'd get reprimanded for being an idiot.

Oh, who cares? I already look dumb. So, when I explain this little revelation to him, he gives me that same, "Hmm. Rikku's gone insane" look that Paine always gives me. Come to think of it, he might have learned it from her. Anyway, he just rolls his eye, and says, "Mature, Pypa. You know, I'll bet there's a four-year-old somewhere who'll be best friends with you."

"Why are you calling me babe? Stop it!"

"Why, don't you like it, babe? Huh, babe? Really, babe, you know, I can stop if you really want me to. Babe."

I am going to kill him and laugh while I'm doing it. I'll bury the body somewhere out in the desert where no one will find it, and then we'll all have a big "Gippal is gone!" party and Spira will celebrate for several long, happy years while we erase all evidence that there ever was a guy named Gippal. Ever. Heck, I think even his parents would join in that party. I don't think even his mother could have loved him. He's just so - AAARRRGGGHHH!

"What the _hell_ is wrong with you?" I shriek, trying to fish the ice out of my cleavage while not spilling hot cocoa or killing myself.

"You looked distracted. We wouldn't want that, now would we?"

I finally give up and storm off, clutching my blanket around me, hoping I haven't leaked everywhere or something equally as embarrassing. As I pass Tidus in the hallway, he gives me a weird look (I'm getting a lot of those lately, I notice) and asks me why I've got a big wet spot right in between my boobs.

This means war, Gippal. _War._


	5. Chapter 5

.  
.  
.  
(i'm in)  
**over my head  
**.  
.  
.

Oh, sweet mother of Yevon. I've done it now. Save me. _Please._

(Even though you're dead and I don't like your son. A little help would be appreciated.)

Holy crap, this was by far the worst idea I've ever had. Not only did I make the monumentally idiotic decision of pranking Gippal, which would have been bad enough, because Gippal is notorious for using any sort of underhanded, terrifying, disgusting, or illegal methods physically possible to win a prank war - but that would have been contained, right? Me versus Gippal. Yes, there might have been a few stray sheep or pigs or shoopufs thrown into the mix which would probably find themselves in uncompromising, indecent positions, but ultimately, it would have stayed between us.

But no. I am a total and complete dumbass.

See? This deserves cursing. I haven't cursed since... Since I slipped in the tub, almost a day and a half ago. But before that, I hadn't cursed in a very, very long time (which _might_ be exactly equal to the time elapsed since I was last around Gippal. Maybe. What can I say? He practically invented foul language, and taught me all the worst words. Stands to reason that I'd be a little less inhibited around him.)

(About language. Nothing else. All my other inhibitions are _firmly_ in place when he's near. I swear.)

(That sounded suspiciously like denial. It wasn't. Even if he is obscenely gorge-)

(_He should go die_.)

Anyway, I've gone and done it now. Because my little plan backfired. It was going to be a funny, ha-ha sort of thing. You see, I, being a renowned alchemist, can make such wonderful creations as grenades and potions and lurid pink hair dye. It would have been absolutely_ great_, Gippal with bright, bright, hurts-your-eyes pink hair (it would have washed out, eventually).

I didn't count on Brother using the shower first. Nor for the fact that apparently, all the men in this place use the same shampoo. Except Gippal, who just _would_ be vain enough to bring his own.

I suppose it isn't all bad - I mean, Brother's pink mohawk is quite possibly the funniest thing I've ever seen - but Tidus with pink spikes? Buddy with pink fuzz? It's like an epidemic of pink. I don't know why the first guy in the shower didn't say, "Hmm. My hair is not the right color. Perhaps I should _tell the rest of the group_."

But they didn't.

And apparently, Pops shampoos his scalp.

Apparently, my hair dye burns on contact with smooth skin.

Apparently, my father doesn't understand how to wash off something which burns.

My problem becomes clear, doesn't it?

I'm doomed. Every male in this entire compound is out for my blood, and the only one who isn't dripping pink knows damn well that it was targeted at him (he told me! While laughing at Brother. He condescended me and patted me on the head and I kicked him in the shin and then he said he wouldn't protect me from the guys when they came with torches and pitchforks. Which they very well might be doing.) If they don't simply attack me and string me up by my toenails, then they'll all conspire against me in a massive, everyone-for-himself prank war, in which I'll probably end up in seriously deep crap.

Like, shoopufs-with-stomach-viruses deep. That was a nasty analogy. Eew.

So, now that I've successfully made a royal mess of things, there's only one option left: Throw myself on the mercy of Tidus and pray he's still got a working sense of humor.

-:-

Unfortunately, Tidus does still have a working sense of humor, and it's working against me. He laughed when I asked him for grace and sanctuary and help, and said that he wasn't really mad, so long as it wasn't permanent (I assured him it wasn't, and then went moving in that special no-that's-not-desperation-I-promise way to get back to my room and make _absolutely sure _that it will wash out because it would just be my luck. Thankfully, I knew what I was doing when I made the stuff). But then he said that he couldn't just let such a thing go, and that I should mark his words, I would pay for my little trick.

So, as soon as I can arrange everything, I'm moving into my closet, packing all of my clothes, and heading for the hills.

That's a lie. I don't have the guts, money, energy, or determination to get far enough away. I mean, I'd pretty much have to move to Zanarkand and learn from the monkeys. You never know. They may just accept me into their... flock? Pack? Pride? Heh. A Pride of Monkeys. How cool a name would that be?

But, then again, how bad would that feel? _You've been rejected by humanity, so join those monkeys! _Yeesh. I don't look like a monkey, right?

But I do fully intend to hide in my closet until it's safe to leave (the way I figure, if I make a couple strategic three-AM sustenance-hunting missions, I can survive for several weeks, hiding away from the rest of the world. Unless, of course, I have to pee. Which I really ought to have thought about before crawling in here.) Maybe, just maybe, they'll forget about it. After the dye washes -

_Spider._

Oh, no. Oh, no. Not spiders. Give me torches, give me mobs trying to kill me, give me wild monkeys, hell, give me _Sin_. Anything but spiders. I hate spiders.

Now, don't get me wrong. In the rest of Spira, spiders are just a mildly creepy annoyance. But have you ever seen a Desert Wolf Spider? Bigger than my head, with giant fangs and hairy legs and big, rolling eyes and it's getting closer it's going to eat me get it away!

I fly out of the closet, barrel through my door and faceplant a very sturdy, tall chest. As in, chest of drawers. Not male-chest. I keep forgetting to bring it into my room, so this huge thing has been sitting opposite of my door for the past three weeks. Which is, in retrospect, pretty awful of me. I mean, Brother's room is next to mine, and he probably stubs his toe on it every night.

And I'm sitting, on my butt, clutching my nose, eyes watering, still acutely aware of the fact that there is a terrifyingly huge spider in my closet right now, crawling down into all my clean clothes and spinning webs in my shoes and I'll never be able to sleep there tonight. And then someone begins to applaud.

Gippal. Of course.

I glance at him and see that he's trying very hard not to burst out laughing. I glare at him and stand up huffily - wavering when the blood rushes to my head and _I am still in extreme pain_ - and try to stalk off. Only, when I'm about halfway down the hall, I hear his voice. "So you liked my little present, did you? Found him out while doing rounds."

_Death._

He will not even see it coming. He'll be there, minding his own business (or, more likely, minding _my_ business) and I will swoop out of nowhere and BAM! That'll be the end of it. He knows how much I hate spiders. He knew that I'd hide in my closet. This is why all those war-people tell you not to fraternize with the enemy. They get to know your secrets.

...What _doesn't_ Gippal know about me? Hmm. I'm at least seventy-five percent sure that he doesn't know my bra size. But then again, I was really drunk the night he left for the Crimson Squad, so I can't really be sure. I don't remember ever telling him whether or not I'm a virgin (which is really none of his business), but again, I was really drunk that night. Dammit! I am never drinking again. Alcohol is evil. Um... I'm quite positive he doesn't know that I can dance. He probably thinks I'm a clumsy, uncoordinated child. And that's something that alcohol wouldn't have told him, because drunkenness makes people clumsy.

So there! I can dance, and he doesn't know it!

...No. No, wait. I took dance lessons from his mother, didn't I?

Well, _shit._

Argh. What do I know about him? What weakness can I exploit? I don't think he's ticklish, and that's a pretty pathetic revenge anyway. Tickling someone to death just doesn't have that _oomph, _you know? Not dramatic enough. Or even entirely possible.

Um... I already tried to attack his vanity, and that backfired so spectacularly that I'm not willing to try again. He... Hmm.

Well, now. An idea has occurred to me. It's awfully cruel, and he'll probably hate me for it, but if it works, he won't mess with me again. I hope. He shouldn't, at least.

There's a trick Wakka told me about, which involves casting blizzard and shaving gel. The way it goes is that you freeze the gel, then peel off the can around it, and then set it somewhere enclosed. When the gel meets the air, it expands, right? That's what it's supposed to do. So, I clear out anything that would be seriously harmed by the reaction (pictures, weapons, myself) set it in there while he's out or in the shower or something, and...

He is going to _kill_ me.

I am _so_ going to regret this tomorrow. But I don't care. It's worth it, and it'll be worth every bit of hell I go through afterward.

...Now, where am I going to sleep tonight?


End file.
